


Guess who!

by Catthhay



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Dream, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical deaths, Crack Treated Seriously, Gender Non-Conforming Character, Genderfluid Character, In which I make myself seem more badass than I am, No romantic pairing yet, Or maybe just, Other, There are two Spider-men, Why do I do this, asthma attack in first chap, because the OC/SI is a devious little shit, but I try to write it well, but nobody knows, canonical deaths, i added plot to crack, let me have this, no romance with the Self insert, shenanigans is coming, this is gonna be a mash of absolute crack and serious stuff, uhh I’ll add to this as the story goes on, who is good at planning this stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catthhay/pseuds/Catthhay
Summary: Spider-Man. One of the most cryptic heroes out there, especially considering not even the Batfam has been able to figure out his identity. No, this has nothing to do with Peter Parker suddenly learning how to lie. Rather, someone else has always known how to string together a good Fib and has a lifetime of practice hiding secrets they want nobody else to know. Because, unbeknownst to everyone, there isn’t just one spider-man. There are two. And they tag out whenever they need to, to protect both their identities and each other.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationships - Relationship, to be updated as the story goes on
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Guess who!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is probably not gonna be everyone’s cup of tea. That’s fine, I don’t expect it to be. This is pretty self indulgent, but I am not gonna make this story all about me either. I value putting effort into my stories above all else, so even a self indulgent story has the potential to be someone else’s safe story too. Because of that, please be aware that this is a self insert story based on a really hilarious dream I had recently, but I’m gonna try to make the “me” in this story actually into a real character. That means no Mary-Sue up in here, I am either gonna create weaknesses or be really fucking honest about the shit I’m bad at. But this is fiction and based on a dream, so I’m gonna also ham some stuff up and live out some fantasies of mine through my writing. 
> 
> But, if you’re fine with reading most DCU and Marvel crossovers, please give this a shot. I promise I have at least a general idea of what I’m doing here, this is far from my first fanfic. Thanks for your time! 
> 
> P.S; we’re gonna go with a generally up to date timeline. That means the “me” and Peter Parker of this universe are gonna be 23 by/in the year 2020. I will change personal info about myself to fit the story, of course. Expect only my personality to be true to my real self, and even then only vaguely. Again, I’m gonna be hamming stuff up and living my dreams here… even my bad ones.

—*—*—*—*—*

**October 2009, New York City, New York.**

Oscorp was a huge place. Well, technically it was a huge company— but the headquarters in New York City was also huge. That’s the important part. It was huge enough (and Osborne was opportunistic enough to take advantage of as many income sources as possible) for multiple tour groups to visit at once. Which was how Midtown High was scheduled to tour the facilities on the same day as CaCAA High, which was a really poor acronym for the Communications and Creative Arts Academy. People who actually cared about the place just called it Comms Academy or “that creative arts school.” 

But none of that was important at first. It was just a normal field trip, with tons of pubescent teens excited to get away from institutional learning and have some form of freedom for a day. Peter Parker, though, was just hoping things actually went okay on this trip for a change. Field trips had never been… horrible for him, per say. They had just never been good, either. Peter did much better when he was allowed to stick to a quiet corner of the room either by himself or with one of his few friends, and just focus on whatever he was most interested in that day. Not walking around an unfamiliar place and unable to escape at least the occasional bump-in with other people, most of whom didn't like him. 

To make matters worse? Harry wasn’t even in his chaperone group. Whatever smart guy decided to split the groups based on class ranking instead of it being alphabetical, like it should be, should be punched. It meant that Peter was stuck with people he hardly ever talked to, who somehow juggled both being smart and at least semi-personable. 

Suffice to say, he just stuck to the back of the small group and stayed quieter than a mouse during the whole trek through the various areas of the massive Oscorp laboratories. At least they had cool stuff to look at. The gangly twelve year old (yet another obstacle between him and his overly status-quo classmates. He had skipped a grade) brushed unruly cinnamon hair out of his face and adjusted his coke-bottle glasses before a small grin dared to show itself. Spiders! Sure, he wasn’t a huge fan of the creepy crawlies, but he wasn’t scared of them anymore like he had been as a kid. They were actually pretty fascinating, and as he listened to the tour guide talk about what Oscorp had been doing with them Peter couldn’t help but latch on to every word. He hadn’t realized spiders had held so much potential for scientific discovery! 

The boy felt the familiar twitch in his fingers, the appendages itching for a pencil— he would even accept a pen, at this rate. Wait! That’s right, he had packed a notebook for exactly this reason. Slinging his backpack around to his front, he rummaged around as silently as he could (didn’t want any attention, he was lucky he got this far without incident) to try to find his note taking supplies. 

Nope. Not that pocket. That’s a textbook— why didn’t he take that out before the trip? Must have forgotten. Notebook! Nope, that’s for advanced algebra. 

Huffing in annoyance but more determined than ever, Peter just plopped his backpack straight on the ground and crouched down, tearing through the pockets in search of his prey. There! A small notebook only a little bit bigger than his hand with a bright red, plain cover. He had even had the foresight to shove a sharpened pencil through the spiral binding, sweet! Eagerly he snatched it up, zipped his backpack back up, and slung it back over his shoulder before standing. 

He froze, notebook in hand. The group was gone. 

“Ah,” he said lamely to himself as he processed his situation. “So that’s the flavor of trouble for this trip,” he sighed, shaking his head and heading in the direction he thought the group would go next. Aha, footsteps! Definitely a group of people up there. He sped up into a jog, sighing in relief when he saw half-filled backpacks on the backs of people definitely still in the early stages of growth spurts. Kicking another bit of speed into his stride, he caught up, and waved to catch the attention of the tour guide and chaperone. 

Only to falter again and grimace. This wasn’t his group, and judging by the raised eyebrow of the very unfamiliar teacher, it wasn’t even his _school_.

“Are you from Midtown, by any chance?” The teacher asked, a corner of her lip twitching as if she wanted to smile at his misfortune. She sounded as if Midtown students should be expected to get lost all the time. Peter forced out an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Ah, yeah. I, uh, I got separated from my group and followed the closest sound of a group and, uh,” he gulped and winced again when his voice cracked. “obviously I’m still lost,” he ended weakly with a shrug. The teacher snorted and took out a phone from her pocket. 

“I can see that,” she replied again in that borderline amused tone that seemed to come naturally to her. “Might as well join up with us until I can get in contact with your chaperone and return you to them. It’ll take a while, I have to call your school and have them patch me in to your teachers on the trip, but you shouldn’t have to miss out on a learning opportunity because of it,” her eyes glanced down to the notebook he was holding, and finally that repressed twitch of the lip turned into a sly smirk. “Especially if you were just distracted by note taking. I’m Miss Barnin, and this group is from Comms Academy. Try not to lose us too, now,” with one last soft chuckle, the teacher turned away and started dialing a number on her phone. 

Peter felt like his face was melting off of it’s bones from his poor, fiery blush. All of the Comms students were either glancing back at him repeatedly, or flat out staring like he was one of the experiments on display. 

And then someone laid a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his own flesh. A short bark of laughter sounded beside him, drawing his attention to the student who had managed to sneak up on him. 

They were the same height as him, not that that was a terribly hard feat. He hadn’t hit his own growth spurt yet, and was barely five-foot one. They had short, jet black hair that was buzzed short in the back and sides but allowed to hang in slightly long, asymmetrical bangs. Bangs that just so happened to perfectly frame their own thick glasses. 

Dark brown eyes glinted in amusement behind those thick lenses, and he was met with a crooked-toothed grin. 

“Yo,” the student greeted lazily, amusement heavy in their tone. Was the teacher’s personality contagious, or was it the other way around? Did everyone at CaCAA act like they were in on a joke that nobody else knew about? “I’m Cj. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost again, yeah?” 

“A-Ah,” Peter stuttered, not used to someone being blatantly nice to him. He was pretty suspicious, actually, and their amused tone wasn’t helping that at all. He clutched his notebook tighter to his chest and his free hand gripped his backpack strap. If this person turned out to be a bully, he wouldn’t be surprised. Even more important than that, he’d be ready. Still, benefit of the doubt and all… “I’m Peter, Peter Parker,” he managed to squeeze out. He earned a smile in return, and a nod from Cj. 

“Alright. Well, Mister Peter,” they rocked back on their heels and smiled even more widely than before. “The group is leaving.” 

“What?!” Peter whipped around, and sure enough the Comms Academy group was already halfway across the room. Cj just laughed, grabbing his wrist and dragging him after the class at a jog. 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry!” They reassured, blasé as anything. “They’re used to me lagging behind. I don’t get lost easily though,” they winked and tapped the side of their head. “I got an excellent special memory. If it’s really that bad, I just trace my steps back to the entryway and ask an employee for a map of the places we’re supposed to see on a school tour. If I’m lucky, I’m even able to beat the rest of them to one of the next locations and slip back in as if I was never gone,” they chuckled a bit at that, and Peter had a sudden thought that maybe Cj saw the whole “getting lost” thing as a game. He wouldn’t put it past them to leave a tour group on purpose to see if they could get to the next place on the trip first, or to test how long it took everyone to notice. 

The fact that Peter could already tell that about them made him nervous. Cj was clearly a trickster, and that didn’t bode well when mixed with Peter’s penchant for trouble. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t also a little excited. Maybe Cj could bring a little extra fun to a trip he had already doomed as a day of isolation and silence. 

“That’s probably not something you should test,” he somehow managed to joke back. Sure enough, they caught back up to the tour group without even missing a single scripted line from their guide. Then he felt his fingers fidgeting around his notebook, and bit the inside of his cheek nervously. There was a question he wanted to ask, but he didn’t know how. He spent a few good minutes completely ignoring the guide, just glancing between the floor tiles and Cj’s face. “Uh, by the way—“

“I’m not telling you my gender,” they immediately deadpanned, making Peter blink. Cj’s face had completely closed off, and they wouldn’t even look at him. “It’s hard to tell, right? That’s the point. It’s bad enough that almost none of the teachers except Barnin are willing to listen to me. And none of my classmates understand. So,” they looked over at him finally, making direct eye contact. Cj looked so serious, so utterly, deadly serious that Peter was unable to look away. “I won’t tell you. That way, we can be friends until this trip is over and I don’t have to worry about you turning into a jerk like everyone else.” 

“Uh,” Peter completely blanked out for a minute. He didn’t know what to say, until his previous thoughts surfaced again. “I was just gonna ask how old you were.” 

Immediately, Cj’s eyes went wide and all the color drained from their face. “Shit,” they cursed under their breath. “I totally came off too defensive. Shit, I’m so sorry, I should have listened to you instead of cutting you off— goddamn it, I always jump to conclusions—“ the way they alternated between talking to him and cursing at themselves was a little hard to follow, but something about it finally made Peter’s shoulders relax. To his horror, he even let out a soft huff of laughter. Cj’s head whipped up to him. 

“What?” 

“Sorry! I shouldn’t laugh,” Peter apologized, but that just made him laugh more. “But I just— I thought you were a bully, but you’re just as awkward as I am!” 

Cj stared at him blankly before their face morphed into something dramatically offended. They even put a hand to their chest and gasped. “Well! How dare you!” They put on a fake British accent and really exaggerated their tone, making it clear they were joking as they sniffed disdainfully, closed their eyes, and looked away. “I assure you, sir, that I am leagues more awkward than you! Get it right, simpleton.”

That spurred on more laughter, which the rest of their group just took in stride. After a quick glance back at the source of the disruption, the other kids just rolled their eyes and ignored them. Apparently Cj also had a little bit of a reputation for being disruptive, though clearly they usually had other friends to help. 

“I’m twelve,” Cj finally managed to wheeze out, clutching their shirt loosely with one hand as their other pulled an inhaler from their purse. “I s-skipped a grade, why?” Their breathing was noticeably heavy and strained by then, but they acted as if it was normal and just started shaking their inhaler as they walked behind the class. Peter only looked at the medicine for a moment before smiling in sympathy. Asthma was a bitch that he was very familiar with. 

“Hey, me too—“ they both paused as the inhaler didn’t make a sound when Cj pressed the actuator. Time seemed to slow down, and Cj pressed again. Nothing but a sad, short little wheeze of air that was every bit as pathetic as what they were already getting in their lungs. “... shit.” 

Cj was clearly only a few seconds away from panicking already, taking the inhaler out of their mouth and turning it around to glare at the blank red square at the bottom, where there should have been a number telling them how many puffs were left. 

It was completely squeezed dry of medicine. 

Now the wheezes, spurred on by Cj’s suppressed panic, began to actually become audible. It sounded like soft whistles coming straight out of their throat, though they clearly weren’t voluntary. Peter was scared now, too. Sure he had asthma, but it hadn’t ever gotten this bad. Made him short of breath if he ran too long, squeezed his chest a little painfully sure, but he had never had asthma bad enough to empty an inhaler before his old one expired and he ended up with a new one anyway. It was getting increasingly clear that Cj had it worse than he did, by a fair margin. 

“Let’s sit down,” he told them, grabbing Cj by the shoulders and steering them to a nearby bench. “Miss Barnin—“ when Peter turned around, the group was almost gone. But still in sight luckily, Peter could see their backs right before they rounded a corner. He turned to his new friend, eyes wide as he tried hard to keep his thoughts straight for them. 

“I’ll go get them, just give me a—“ Peter was interrupted but Cj’s hand suddenly gripped his bicep almost hard enough to bruise. If anything, they looked even more panicked now. Their pupils almost eclipsed the brown of their irises, and their already strained breathing picked up. 

“No!” They hissed out, voice gravelly and rough. They managed a lopsided smile for him, doing their best to take a slow and deep breath but wincing at the shock of pain it created in their chest. “Amazing… spatial memory, ‘member? Don’t need… anyone’s help. Just… gimme a sec to… breathe,” 

Peter was understandably skeptical, but he sat down next to Cj anyway. It was probably better if they stayed under supervision anyway, the tour group was already gone and Peter might take too long trying to find them now. The best he could do was stay with Cj and yell for help if they passed out. 

Cj immediately spread their legs, resting their elbows on their knees and hunching their back to try and get as much air into their lungs as possible when they breathed in. To Peter it was like watching someone trying to recover from a panic attack, their eyes clenched closed and breathing artificially slow. The rasps in their throat were still audible and painful to listen to, but— and Peter thought he might be imagining it— they seemed to slowly be getting better. After about ten minutes of his dutiful vigil, Cj straightened their back and picked up their inhaler again. It was attached to a plastic tube, a spacer if Peter remembered his old doctor’s lectures. Doctors always said you needed to use a spacer, but Uncle Ben always said it was just a trick to get you to spend another seventy bucks on plastic. But now, Cj raised it to their mouth and just breathed through it even though they knew the inhaler attached was completely empty. Another painful ten minutes passed, and Cj finally took the tube away with a sigh. 

A deliciously normal-sounding sigh. 

“Still a bit uncomfortable,” they managed to say, voice aggravatingly casual. They thumped their chest with one fist, grinning. “But the ol’ spacer trick always works. I haven’t washed it this week yet, so some of the medicine I’ve used these past few days was still floating around in there. Whatever didn’t make it into my lungs the first time, right?” Their grin got wider. “So I just kept breathing in the extra leftover medicine, and poof! Not as effective as a puffer that actually works right, but it’s a trick that’s saved my life a few times,” they tapped the spacer with one bitten-down nail, face growing serious. “Always trust the spacer.” 

Peter couldn’t help it; he snorted. “That was terrifying. Never do that again,” he scolded even though he couldn’t quite stop himself from grinning. CJ just winked and shouldered him playfully. 

“No promises!” They disagreed, unrepentant. “Now come on, let’s find those guys again.” 

Peter shook his head, standing up with them and keeping an eye on their new friend even as Cj seemed to be right as rain again. Maybe, Peter thought, Cj getting lost was because of this situation having happened before. And maybe, just maybe, they made the whole ‘find the class again’ thing into a game so that they didn’t worry anyone about what actually was going on. 

Or maybe so they just didn’t think too hard about their own actions. 

“Here,” Peter shoved his sad little flip phone at Cj, who blinked at it in silent surprise for a second before raising their eyes to Peter with one eyebrow raised in confusion. Peter felt himself blush again. “So you can put your number in my phone. Obviously someone has to look out for you, if you’re too stubborn to tell anyone when you’re having an attack that bad.” 

Cj’s face did a funny thing at that. It looked like they were angry first, then it switched to utter confusion, before settling into resignation, and finally gratefulness. They sighed, rolling their eyes and taking the phone. They punched their number in moodily, but Peter saw how soft their face was. They were just acting mad. Peter grinned. 

“There, happy now ya worrywart?” Cj asked, their voice suspiciously devoid of any actual heat. Peter just laughed and took the phone back. He sent a quick text, which made a loud “HEY!” Yell out from Cj’s pocket. Peter almost dropped his phone, he flinched so hard. Cj winced, pulling out a flip phone almost identical to Peter’s and opening it up. 

“Got your text,” they confirmed moodily. “My grandpa was getting fed up that I wouldn’t notice my phone was ringing or that I got any texts, so he stole it and changed my ringtones to recordings of him yelling “Hey” for texts and another recording of him and my sister singing; “Answer your phone CJ” for calls,” they explained glumly before shoving their phone away again. “Suffice to say, I don’t miss calls anymore.” 

“Why don’t you just change it back?” Peter asked as they walked, only to be greeted by Cj’s groan of despair. 

“He locked it with a password I don’t know, and I’m shit at technology,” they admitted. “My grandpa is more tech savvy than I am, and he’s almost sixty.” 

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Maybe I can help with that some day,” he offered. “I mean, I’m pretty good with tech. I do go to a science and tech school, after all,” he reminded them with a grin. CJ whipped their head over to him with wide, hopeful eyes. 

“Really?! I’d love that! I’ll help you with any English homework you want if you can change the ringtone back to something normal!” 

“Deal!” Peter agreed immediately, and the two of them shook on it. 

That was when Cj looked up, and scrunched their eyebrows. “Uh. Have you been paying attention to where we were going?” 

Peter stared at her. “I thought you were, Perfect Spatial Memory Person.” 

CJ shot him an unimpressed glare, before turning in a slow circle to try and get their bearings. “If we find a map, I can get us back on track. But since neither of us were paying attention, I have no idea where we are.” 

Peter sighed, shaking his head. “That’s fine, I’m used to things going wrong on field trips.” He shrugged and went to walk off, only for Cj’s eyes to widen and their hand to latch onto his shoulder. 

“Wait, don’t move!” 

“What? What’s wro—ouch!” 

“Shit, I wasn’t fast enough,” Cj cursed, before Peter felt their hands scoop something from off his neck, where he had felt a sharp, painful pinch. They cradled something in the palm of their hand, seemingly unsure of whether to focus on it or Peter. Their choice was taken away though, when suddenly Cj squeaked in pain as well and dropped whatever they were holding. They shook out their hand, where Peter could see a red welt forming on their wrist. Cj hissed through their teeth. 

“Should have expected that, idiot! What was I thinking?” They scolded themselves softly. Peter just rubbed his sore neck, glancing down to see the now-dead body of the spider that had apparently just bit them both. “Is that little shit still alive?” 

“No,” Peter shook his head, bending down to poke at it. “Spiders actually have very fragile exoskeletons, so if they drop from too high and aren’t able to land correctly, it can fracture it and kill them. And this is a big spider too, which means it’s weight probably helped cave in it’s thorax when it hit the ground. No more biting for this guy.” 

Cj, to their credit, actually seemed interested by this impromptu lesson and nodded. “Cool. I can’t give it a burial, but,” they scooped up the spider corpse and carried it to a nearby trash can. “Rest in Peace, little shithead. Go bite war criminals in Hell or something.” 

Peter snorted, and was about to reply when— 

“Peter Parker! There you are, we’ve been looking all over for you!” Mister Harrison’s voice called out, making Peter wince and turn around. Sure enough, there was his teacher with his group of kids for the trip. It just so happened to be the group Harry was in, and his best friend just crossed his arms and shook his head at Peter in amusement. “First you disappear from your group, then you end up with a group of Comms Academy kids, then you disappear again! Honestly, you’d think you would have learned to keep your eyes on your tour guide instead of the floor,” Mister Harrison scolded, shaking his head. “Come on. I’m not letting you out of my sight for another second.” 

“Oh, hold on—“ he turned to get Cj to join them, but his new friend was already at the end of the hallway shaking their head. He frowned, but they just mouthed the words “spatial memory” and walked away. Peter sighed, turning back to Mister Harrison. “Never mind. I was with another Comms Academy student, but it looks like they found their own class again.” 

“Good. Now get over here, we’re headed to lunch.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Peter somehow survived the day. He stumbled into his house at five-pm on the dot, barely managing to return Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s greetings. 

“Hey, sport!” Ben greeted. “How was the trip? Why do you look so green?” 

Peter rubbed his forehead. “Uh, not too bad, uncle Ben. I actually made a new friend. But, uh, I think the taco salad they served as lunch was bad or something. I feel sick. I’m gonna… go sleep it off, is that okay?” 

Ben frowned, but Peter really did not look good. He slowly nodded, sharing a concerned glance with May. “That’s fine, son. Do you need Tylenol or anything?” 

“I… I should still have that bottle in the restroom. I’ll take some before I go to sleep. Thanks Uncle Ben. Seeya later, Aunt May.” 

With that, Peter downed a pain pill and dropped into bed. So the trip wasn’t all bad, but he should have expected getting sick. Something bad always happened on field trips. 

He didn’t realize it would only get worse. 

—*—*—*—*—*

Cj shivered, thirty minutes away, even under five different blankets in their room. Why was everything so cold? If that damn burrito they had for lunch screwed with them… then again, Cj’s health was always shit. With their luck, that surface scratch from an alley cat that barely even made them bleed gave them rabies or something. They could only clutch their blankets tighter around them, hoping they could warm up soon. There was no way they were gonna tell their grandparents. Nobody needed to know they felt bad. 

It would be fine by morning anyway, right? 

—*—*—*—*—*

**Author's Note:**

> There it is! Wow this ended up long. I hope it was good! 
> 
> The asthma scene actually is from personal experience. Yes my asthma really is that bad. Lol. 
> 
> I also do have glasses. It’s just a coincidence I am physically not that different from Peter Parker. Honestly it’s probably the main reason I relate to him so much. Scrawny, asthma, horrible eyesight, awkward as hell? It’s like Marvel wrote me into a character lol. Except for the being good at math and science thing.


End file.
